


We Are The Killers

by Tamoline



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 08:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12008556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamoline/pseuds/Tamoline
Summary: Media has a proposition for Easter





	We Are The Killers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lilacsigil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsigil/gifts).



All over the grounds, the grass turned just a little bit greener, plants pushed their way out of the rich earth, and flowers bloomed, stretching for the bright blue sky. Motes of pollen danced through the air, glinting in the sunlight like tiny particles of glitter. And rabbits… rabbits pushed out eggs and multiplied. 

Within the opulent wooden confines of the house, Easter stretched luxuriously, feeling a tingling wave of energy wash over her, the champagne of a million tiny thoughts that may have been less than nothing individually, but collectively…

It was a bounty she wasn’t expecting, not quite yet, and - not that she was exactly complaining - but it rather felt like an attempt to butter her up.

A rabbit hopped into the room. “The television is on in your study,” he told her.

Ah, and there it was.

She glanced in a mirror as she wandered through the house, adjusted her clothing and brushed a few hairs back into place. The almost prayers floated through the air, curling kindly around her like clouds of incense. She drew a portion of the bounty into her, giving herself a bit more bounce than was natural any time apart from the big weekend.

She entered the study and was greeted by the television switching from channel to channel, displaying easter special after early easter special.

“While this is all very flattering,” she said. “One doesn’t simply walk into a lady’s house without permission.”

The channel changed once more to… The Lion in Winter. Katharine Hepburn, elegant and edged, looked out of the screen at her with piercing blue eyes. “I would have come a-knocking, but who knows who might have been watching?”

Easter leaned back, eyes slightly narrowed. “And who would the mighty Media be worried about seeing anything she does?”

Katharine Hepburn stepped out of the screen, swathed in red, with a white wimple and a golden circlet on her head. “Wednesday’s been stirring up all kinds of trouble.. Even killed his old friend Vulcan, probably.”

“And you really expect me to believe that he’s got you worried?”

Media took another step forward, into Easter’s space. “Would you care to sit down?” she asked, almost purring. “My darling Easter?”

Easter took a step backwards and to the left, towards the most plushly appointed chair in the room. “You really do want something from me, don’t you?”

“Maybe I just think it’s been too long since I appreciated you,” Media said, matching her step for step, never letting her get further away. She looked at her from under her lashes. “How long has it been, exactly?”

“Since the last time you wanted something from me,” Easter said dryly.

“Well, let me make up for lost time,” Media said, leaning in and kissing her.

Like always, Media smelled of nothing, tasted of nothing, touched of nothing. If Easter were to close her eyes, it would be like having her mouth brushed by the air, her lips forced apart by the wind, her tongue played with by pure water. If that air, that wind, that water had the concentrated worship of millions behind it, of course.

Not that she’d ever be that foolish, of course. Anyone who took their eyes off Media deserved everything they got.

Still, she couldn’t help sticking her hands into Media’s wimple, messing up that perfect hair she couldn’t feel, couldn’t stop her eyes rolling a little as a touchless hand caressed her breast, couldn’t stop her stomach tightening as that hand drifted lower.

Media pulled back to look at Easter with a half smile on her face. “Sure you don’t want to sit down?”

“Well,” Easter said. “If you insist.” She sat down, slowly, casually, determined to show no weakness.

Media knelt down in front of her and pushed up Easter’s skirt. Then she lightly stroked the inside of Easter’s thighs, the non-pressure almost painfully more erotic than any true touch could have been. She pulled down Easter’s panties, dipped her head towards her cunt - so close that Easter could feel the unbreath against her dampness, lighting her up with anticipation…

And then paused. Because naturally she did.

“You’re right, of course,” Media said. “Wednesday by himself isn’t much to worry about. We know that. He knows that. Which is why he’s undoubtedly looking for backup amongst other old gods with rather more… oomph than he does these days,” she said, looking up at Easter with Katharine’s blue eyes.

Easter laughed at the idea, albeit in a bit more of strained way than she would prefer. “Me?” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m far too happy with the current arrangement than be tempted by anything *Wednesday* can offer.”

Media grinned catlike. “But what,” she said then licked a line down Easter’s cunt, her tongue’s touchless path lighting a line of sheer frustration with its sweet incipient power. “If you were?”

Easter took a moment to get the implication. In her defence, she was being somewhat distracted. “You *want* me to go for his little plot, whatever it is.”

“More… potentially allow yourself to be convinced. If the price is right.” She licked again, and Easter squirmed under her.

“Why?” she asked breathlessly. “What’s in it for you?”

“The War of the Gods. Straight to the country’s television sets. The media event of the century.”

Easter was suddenly a lot less distracted by Media between her legs. “Which will also shape mankind’s relationship with their deities for the new millennium.”

Media’s smile showed teeth. “Exactly.”

“And you need to be, what, a leading lady in this drama?” It better be a leading role, she tried to imply with her tone.

Media inclined her head. “Without you, their little war will be stillborn. No chance, no tension and, well, Wednesday would be far too much an underdog to play well on American TV. With you - drama, politics and a prime chance for you to shape the final outcome. With my help, of course.”

Easter’s mind fastened onto another facet. “Television, you say? Won’t things be almost as determined by the internet?”

Media looked sour, and Easter couldn’t blame her. She was far from the first goddess to have to worry about a younger competitor’s growing power. “It’s a war,” she said flatly. “Unfortunate sacrifices might be necessary.”

“And let me guess,” Easter said. “It’s not Wednesday you’re worried about seeing your visit, but your compatriots.”

“It’s so nice to have a partner that you don’t have to explain everything to,” Media then dipped her head once more and started again with her clever tongue.

“And all I have to do is be… persuaded,” Easter gasped.

Media hummed in agreement against her, and Easter finally let her eyes roll back with pleasure as she contemplated the possibilities.


End file.
